


Spirit Walk

by Dark_Svengali (Svengali_Khan)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coercion, M/M, Sympathetic Dean, Sympathetic Sam, Wincest - Freeform, mental abilities
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2018-08-11 15:53:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7898716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Svengali_Khan/pseuds/Dark_Svengali
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A simple request turns into something very complicated!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Request

Rain drummed against the glass window of the Bakersfield Sunrise Inn. The sound was more like drumbeats dulled by the soft rumble of thunder, accompanied by occasional sizzle-crack of poison-green neon. Inside room thirteen, the sound was filtered by heavy yellow and orange striped draperies, the height of style three decades prior. Matching bed covers adorned the single wood-framed bed. Thick, pile-carpeting clashed with everything in the room.

"We've seen worse," Sam Winchester said, putting his bag to the right of the bed. "There was the lime-green and pink room in Alabama."

Dean said nothing, just shook his head. Putting his bag on the left side of the bed, he looked at the bizarre circle-and-oval pattern of the wallpaper and felt his stomach lurch. Turning away, he refocused on pulling out his jeans and three black t-shirts. He laid everything on the bed and returned to the bag for the two pair of cotton Calvins.

"It's funny how you'll spend thirty dollars for underwear you won't wear but you'll bitch for hours about an extra fifteen dollars on a room with two beds."

Looking up, Dean gave his brother a raised eyebrow and a half-sarcastic middle finger.

"I sort of like you like this," Sam said with a chuckle. "You should visit the dentist more often. The quiet is refreshing."

Not expecting a reply, he went to the window and pulled back the drapery. Rain was coming down in sheets, creating a rippling, puddles of water in the parking lot. There were two other cars at the far end of the building. The black Impala was parked just outside of the door, in case they needed to get out fast. Sam gauged the distance again, the same way he did when they were given the key and told to have a nice night with a wink. Like other people, the Inn's manager thought they were a couple.

In the reflection of the glass, he watched Dean sit down on the side of the bed and remove his boots and socks. H e could see exhaustion in the way his shoulders slumped forward and the lazy way he went about getting undressed. Sam felt it, too. The drive here was long and plagued with bad weather and temperatures far above what they should have been. An hour ago, they drove through a bout of hail with spitting snow, now it was raining as though it were monsoon season...but Arizona didn't have monsoons...or much snow.

"What are we thinking on this, Dean? I went through all of what we have and I can't find anything about a demon or a spirit but I'm still leaning toward something Native American."

His brother shook his head and began to unbutton his jeans. Sliding the zipper down, he let them fall to the floor and stepped out of them, naked. Dusting a fine film of road-silt from his chest and stomach, he made a silent sign of putting something in his mouth and pointed to the phone. With another middle-finger to his smiling brother, he walked across the thick carpeting to the bathroom. Minutes after, the sound of water hitting tile, then a body, came from the room.

"Pizza...or..." Sam says, not finishing the sentence. Picking up his phone, he dialed the number for Biggerson's. He looked it up on the way here. "Yeah, you guys deliver, right?"

Half an hour later, after the delivery guy brought their food, Sam put the two bacon cheeseburgers out on the small table and began to dress his own salad the way he liked. It was as he was pulling out one of the four chairs around the table he heard the bang and clatter of things being strewn in the bathroom. Minutes later, Dean appeared in the doorway, still naked, wet and very angry. It was a comical site but one Sam did not give in to. Suppressing a smile, he met his brother's eyes.

"What's wrong?"

Dean held his hands out to his sides, as though it was obvious. Dripping on the thick plush carpet, he looked around the room, trying to find something that would be of use. Seeing his discarded t-shirt, he stalked across the room and grabbed it up off the floor. As he began to swipe at his body, he shook his head, anger coming off of him in waves.

"No towels?" Sam guessed.

There was a furious nodding of Dean's head.

"Hold on," the other Winchester said, going over to his bag. "Always be prepared, right?"

From the bag, he produced a thick white towel and tossed it to his brother. Dean caught it and began to dry himself off. Some of the anger began to seep away but he was still not amused. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he gave the small table a look, having got the scent of bacon cheeseburgers. Giving his brother a look asking "Really?", he pointed to his mouth, still a bit swollen.

"I cut yours into smaller pieces," Sam told him with a smile. "If you chew on the other side of your mouth, you should be okay."

Letting out a long sigh, Dean crossed over to the table and sat down. The smell of bacon, the thick meat patty and the comforting blend of both were like a salve to him. Both burgers were cut into six small wedges, all of them bite-sized. Across from him, Sam sat down and Dean offered a thankful smile, taking up one of the wedges and putting it in his mouth. Pushing it to the side of his mouth, he chewed it at a very slow pace, relishing the taste. Closing his eyes, he allowed it to permeate his mouth.

"Good, huh?"

Without opening his eyes, Dean nodded. The taste of the burger, the sound of the rain hitting the window and the strange, stale scent of the carpet drifted all around him. His senses fed him all sorts of information and he let it all sink in. There were aspects of this case he was not looking forward to but right now, he was content. When the dental work healed, he would be back up to one hundred percent and back to being fantastic. With his eyes still closed, he reached for another wedge of burger and put it in his mouth. The sharp buzz of the neon sign, the scent of cleanser in the room and the warm softness of the towel around his waist seeped into his consciousness. After their long drive from Colorado, it was nice to take it all in without the extra noise of fighting.

"Dean?"

Opening his eyes, Dean sat up in his chair, stood up and stumbled over it. Backing away, one hand went to his towel, the other went up in front of him. The voice was Sam's but the person sitting across from him wasn't his brother. Taking another step back, Dean shook his head.

"What the hell is going on?" He did a double take. "How the hell can I be talking?"

"Easy, Dean," the figure said, holding up its hands. "First, Hell has nothing to do with this."

As though stepping out of Sam's body, the tall, lean figure of a man stood up from the chair and moved around the small table. Once separated from the other Winchester, he took on features all his own and very different from Sam's. Green eyes that were flecked with gold, hair like an afternoon sunset, blond ran through with light orange and strands of red. His mustache and goatee were also light blond. His skin was pale, almost like a polished marble statue with darker flesh tones around his considerable muscle groups, his pectorals, abdominals and...

"You didn't answer my questions!" Dean shouted. "What did you do to Sam?!"

In the chair, frozen in mid-sentence, Sam looked on as though he were petrified. The new figure put a hand on the man's shoulder and offered a kind smile.

"It's a rather complicated thing," he began. "Something you may not understand."

"Try me!"

"You and I are talking outside of a moment, a second, really. Although Sam looks as though he's frozen in time, he's fine. To him, everything is normal and you're just taking a little longer to respond than normal."

"Wait...talking outside of a second? How is that possible...and where are your clothes?"

"Right," the other figure said, putting a hand out in front of him. "I forget those, more often than not."

In a shimmering shower of light, the figure was dressed in an camel-colored suit, tailored to his body and a soft yellow shirt and silk tie of the same color, only two shades darker. In his new clothes, he looked like a model off the runway. In a sense, he was just like any other male. What was telling and distinctive about him was the staff he held in his right hand. It was a solid center piece surrounded by two serpents, one white, one black. Atop a small globe on its tip perched a white dove, its wings spread.

Dean might not have recognized the figure right away but he knew the staff. It was the Caduceus, the symbol for the medical profession...and the thing carried by the FTD florist mascot.

"Mercury?"

"Hermes," the figure corrected him. "We have similar jobs but we're different entities."

"So, what are you doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious."

"You're going to give me flowers?"

Hermes smiled and the staff flashed. It disappeared and a small, gold pin appeared on his lapel, the Caduceus in a more compact form. He held his hands out in a gesture of openness. Taking a step forward, he spoke in a low, calming voice.

"No, but I am going to give you a message and it's one I'm not so sure you're going to enjoy."

"Then you can just return to sender because I don't want to hear it!"

"Sorry, Dean, it doesn't work that way. I'm sent to deliver a message and I have to make the delivery."

"Okay, deliver your message. What is it? Pestilence? Famine? Plague? Thunderbolt to the chest? What?"

"Here, I thought I was the one with a flair for the dramatic," Hermes said, taking another step forward. "Just stand still. Try not to make this difficult."

"Stay still?!" Dean said, taking another step back. "Difficult?!"

One hand caught the Winchester brother by the neck, the other by his forearm. Hermes closed the distance between them and kissed the human - on the cheek. Startled, Dean touched his cheek, taking another step even further back.

"What the hell?"

Hermes smiled.

"That's it? A kiss to the cheek? All this weird time-stop...just for a kiss?"

"Sort of, but I thought we might start small."

At the table, Sam still sat without moving, his eyes looking at empty space. Dean looked at his brother and to the wedge of uneaten burger. His stomach responded with a hearty growl. He turned back to Hermes, who was looking at him with a smile.

"There's more, isn't there," he said, nodding. "It's not as easy as just a kiss on the cheek or a bouquet of flowers."

"I'm afraid there are no flowers but you're correct. It's not as easy as just a kiss. After all, a kiss can mean many things to many people or it can mean nothing at all."

"Why don't you people ever come out and just say what you mean? Why is everything either a riddle or a bonus-round Jeopardy answer?!"

"First, we're not people, we're gods. Second, we do come out and say what we mean but it's often just inches above the heads of most mortals, so we dumb it down."

"So, what the hell is going on here and tell me the answer like I'm a five year old."

Hermes smiled again and opened his arms to include Sam.

"Your brother wanted to give you a kiss. You being who you are, he didn't think it was possible so he entreated the help of a god."

"Wait...what did he say?"

"He didn't _say_ anything. His thought, as you came out of the dentist's office, was _god, I wish I could show him how much I care for him, maybe kiss his cheek the way mom used to_."

"God, huh? I'm pretty sure he wasn't talking about you."

Hermes looked hurt as he responded. "He wasn't specific and, contrary to the propaganda, there are more than one of us. For instance, Mercury could have responded but, let's face it, I'm faster. In fact, I'm faster than all of the other gods, which is how I grabbed up Sam's assignment before they could."

"Assignment? I thought that was the assignment," Dean said, rubbing his cheek.

"As you've said, it isn't that easy. You see, I know you and I know your brother. Something starting out as very innocuous, very innocent, always ends up being five times bigger than it should have been. More often than not, there's close observance, sometimes intervention, often bloody fighting, then, clean-up."

"But...it's just a kiss."

Walking around the table, Hermes put a hand to Sam's shoulder and indicated the chair with his other. Dean took the hint and walked back to where he'd been sitting. Adjusting his towel, he prepared himself for what he knew was coming.

"Remember _The Little Mermaid_?" Hermes asked.

"The Disney flick?"

"I was hoping for the book reference, but either one will do," the god sighed. "Remember how all the mermaid wanted was to go to the surface? A very simple request that turned into a much larger ordeal, or, if you prefer, an almost two-hour film."

"Yeah...but Sam's my brother. It's just him being...well...Sam."

"Therein lies the difficulty. Sam's requests aren't always simple."

"So, you're saying he wants legs and you're stealing his voice so it's going to involve talking crabs and combing his hair with a fork?"

Amused, Hermes smoothed a strand of hair out of Sam's face. Looking back at Dean, he leaned down so their eyes met.

"Don't forget, in this scenario, you're the one without a voice."

Before he could be questioned further, Hermes disappeared the same way he appeared. The stillness broke apart and Sam resumed his conversation, as though no time had passed for either of them.

"...was telling you how you'd find some way to screw up a free meal?"

This was followed by a hearty laugh and another bite of his dinner. Unsure as to what he might have been talking about, Dean opened his mouth to answer and was greeted by a stab of pain. He closed his mouth, a hand to his jaw. It still wasn't healed.

"Sorry," Sam was quick to say. "I didn't mean to make you laugh."

Dean waved his concern away with a half-smile. Instead of leaving the subject open for potential debate and further recrimination, he reached for the remainder of his sandwich. He was slow to eat, his eyes on his brother. Sam did not make any other jokes but continued to talk. Long after they'd finished with their dinner, he continued on about whatever topic came to him. When he cleared away the table, Dean was dressed in a pair of expensive underwear and was sliding under the covers of the room's single bed.

"Oh...okay," Sam said, wiping his hands on his jeans. "I guess it's time for bed."

Seconds after his brother slid into the bed beside of him, Dean put a hand to his cheek, where Hermes kissed him.

_I thought we might start small._

Minutes after Sam settled onto his side, Dean felt the solid press of his brother's back against his own, just like when they were kids. He closed his eyes in a futile attempt to block out the contact. If he pushed back to get Sam away from him, it would cause an argument. If he stayed where he was, he wouldn't be able to sleep. Letting out a long sigh, Dean rolled over and threaded his arm through Sam's. Pressing his chest against the other's back, he let his chin rest on Sam's shoulder. A heavy hand fell over his own and they both fell into a single breathing pattern, just like when they were kids.  
  
"Night, Dean," Sam said into the darkness of the room. "Feel better."


	2. The Response

Rain continued to drum against the outside glass, as if it wanted to be let in. Dean tucked one arm under his head and closed his eyes, trying to sleep. Constant sound, bright flashes of lightning, and the press of Sam's back into his own prevented him from even dozing off. At one point, he got up to answer his bladder's request for relief, thankful for the separation.

_Sam's requests aren't always simple_.

Hermes' words rattled around, disjointed and murky. He hated murky. He also hated dealing with self-proclaimed gods because they always did as they damned-well pleased without any regard to rules, decency, or personal boundaries. Hermes moving Sam's hair out of his face without asking – courtesy be damned – bothered him.

After doing what he came in there to do, Dean started to leave the bathroom but found his way blocked. Exasperation got the better of him. "The _fuck_ do you want?"

Propped on one shoulder in the doorway, Hermes smiled at him. "Can't sleep, huh?"

"No, some asshole keeps fucking with me!"

Straightening, Hermes appeared to be concerned. "Well, that's rude."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"I tried to warn you, didn't I? About Sam and his requests?"

"The fuck you did! You came in talking about some Disney chick flick, then kissed me on the cheek like we were best pals and now—"

"You can't lie next to your brother in the same bed without feeling all sorts of ooey, gooey feelings?"

Dean's frustration came to a head. "Yes! Yes, goddamn it!"

"What an interesting word. Have you ever wondered where it came from? I mean, what do you mortals want us to damn and what would that look like, do you think?"

"Can we please stay on topic, here?"

"Right. Feelings." Hermes took a step closer. One hand settled on the center of Dean's chest. "My, you _are_ a sturdy one, aren't you? I can see where it all comes from."

"Where _what_ comes from?"

"All that wonderful slash fiction, the YouTube videos from your television show, the ones always set to weepy, sentimental music portraying you and Sam as tragic lovers separated by circumstance." Hermes' hand slipped down to his flat, muscled stomach. "I'm sure somewhere, someone is writing some perverted fan fiction about you two at this very moment."

"You think all this is some kind of joke?"

The god's face became serious. "No. I do find it rather amusing, though."

"I find it pretty goddamn morbid how you sons-of-bitches have nothing better to do than put us through these paces so you can get off on our misery!"

"I know why you're upset and it hasn't nothing to do with me or my fellow sons-of-bitches. Colorful terminology, by the way, however inaccurate. No, you're upset because your situation with Sam has become very – _very_ – complex and you're having difficulty coping."

"You're damned right I'm having difficulty coping! Who wouldn't?" He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do. We can't just leave and just be on to the next thing because of this storm, I can't talk to him because of this damned injury, and…and…"

"You can't punch, shoot, cajole, or bargain your way out of this little obstacle, can you? No, you're going to have to find another way to move forward and the thought scares you."

"What does forward even look like in this situation?"

Hermes raised a curious eyebrow. "Should I show you?"

"Please!"

They stood at the end of the bed, the god behind the mortal, one hand on his shoulder. Seconds crept by around them, ticking off like hours. A brilliant flash of lightning threw the room into sharp focus. Instead of its normal span of a few seconds, this flash continued for a full minute. On the bed, Sam lay on his back, one arm to the side, the other resting on his stomach. Both legs were spread, drawing Dean's full attention to the rounded front of his underwear. He swallowed hard, realizing the state Sam was in, the state he, himself, was in.

"That's what moving forward looks like for you," Hermes told him. "You don't want to admit it but the kiss awakened those repressed feelings you keep buried."

"There's a reason I keep them buried, ass-hat! I'm not supposed to – we're not supposed to…"

"Why not? Because you share the same blood? Do you know how many rulers bedded their own blood?"

Dean raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Do you know how many psychos that happy little practice produced, genius?"

"Newsflash, genius! You and Sam can't produce offspring. Well, not with each other."

"Still, we're…he's…I can't. It wouldn't be—"

"I hope you're not going to say _right_ or _proper_. The two of you are so caught up on those notions but neither of you have any idea what they really mean. Take what you're doing, for example. All of those beings you've killed? You believe you're righting some overarching wrong but, for the most part, you're interfering in the natural order of things."

"Hey! We're out there making a difference!"

The lightning flash ended, plunging the room back into the sickly green glow of the neon sign outside. Hermes' smirk was unmistakable. He waved off Dean's indignation, coming around him to stand at the side of the bed.

"You mortals and your misplaced sense of difference. Sure, some of the people you've interfered with have gone on to do good things but most of them have faded back into obscurity. You may have stopped the world from ending a few times but this world, like all others, will end. You're delaying the inevitable. You have to realize this."

The god sat down on the side of the bed. Sam shifted, his hand going lower on his stomach. Dean watched the fine curls of hair get tangled, matted together. The hard swell in the tight gray briefs got larger. Fingers strayed further down. Hermes smiled.

"For what? So you could stand there, clothed in your righteous indignation, denying every impulse you have to do what you've never done before?"

"I'm not having this conversation. Send me back! Put me back into real time. Now!"

"First, you don't give me orders. Only my father can do that." Hermes brought his leg up onto the bed. "Second, we _are_ having this conversation because you need to have it. Look at everything you've done to Sam. You've fought with him, even punched him a few times. Didn't you kill him once or twice? All of this and you've never done the one thing to him which would bring you both immeasurable pleasure."

"I…wouldn't know how."

From behind Dean, Hermes whispered in his ear. "Yes, you do. Aside from the obvious anatomical differences, the basic act is still the same. Be gentle with him, use your fingers, relax the muscle, let him dictate your pace and depth. As hard as it might be for you – let Sam drive."

Lightning tore across the sky outside, shattering the darkness into jagged pieces. Thunder rattled the cheap glass of the window. Rain pelted the panes. Green neon shone in from outside, casting Sam's muscled body in an eerie light. Dean felt the telltale twinge of pain in his jaw, preventing him from speaking. Like some stalker in a bad 80's movie, he stood immobile at the end of the bed looking down on his brother. If Sam woke to see him like this, he could not explain himself.

_Fuck_ , he thought, watching Sam turn onto his side, facing the wall. _I'm going straight to Hell for this_.

Summoning all of his courage, he hooked both thumbs into the waistband of his briefs, then pushed them to the floor. Stepping out of them, he wondered what his first move should be. Should he take the direct approach and just pounce or should he seduce his way into the situation. _He's not a gazelle you moron_ , he told himself. _You don't just pounce on somebody like that! The fuck's wrong with you_? Coming around to the side of the bed, Hermes' words came back to him. _Be gentle with him…_ Getting on his knees, he walked his way over to get in behind Sam. The protrusion of his pulsing cock would have been awkward if he hadn't tucked his hips back a bit. Leaning down, he brought his lips to the smooth curve of the shoulder. He place another kiss further up, another on the side of the neck, another just under the earlobe. He knew how to do this, to ease into things. One hand slid over the easy curve of Sam's hip, down over his stomach and into the top portion of his briefs. Several more kisses, this time going back down to the shoulder. Sam stirred _. Be gentle with him_.

Sliding his hand down further, he felt the hard length against the top of his hand. Unsure what to do, he withdrew his hand and decided on another tact. Lying down, he brought their bodies together. This meant the full length of his shaft pressed into the cotton-covered furrow of Sam's backside. Breathing in the scent of him, Dean slid one hand through Sam's arm, letting his fingers glide over the smooth skin. In the greenish-black, Sam stirred again. This time, his own hand settled over Dean's.

"You were doing all right before," he said, pushing the hand back down to his groin. "Do to me what you would do to yourself. It's just like yours…only bigger."

Dean smiled. He slid his hand into the waist, then began kissing along Sam's shoulder to the center of his back. His other hand slid under the neck, settling on the firmness of Sam's chest. He rocked his hips in a slow, easy rhythm.

"Hold on," Sam said, wriggling against him. "Let me…make this…easier."

With adept skill, he slid out of his briefs, moving his body back to where it was before. Dean's firm shaft settled in between the cheeks of his ass. This time, he began moving his hips, causing the shaft to slide back and forth, spilling its clear liquid. As a way to encourage more of this, he arched his back and guided Dean's hand down to grasp his own hardness. The rough, calloused palm against his sensitive smooth skin felt incredible.

With a little help, Dean settled into an easy, slow rhythm. "This good? Am I doing it right?"

"Yeah," Sam said, grinning. "You're doing it all just right. I like what you're doing."

"Good because I don't have a clue what I'm doing."

"Yes you do. I mean, the mechanics might be a little different but you know what you're doing. We're not any different than any of the people we've been with. Well, we are…but you know what I mean. Just do what you do. It'll be good."

"Do what I do, huh?"

"That's what I said."

Using his position, Dean wedged a knee in between Sam's legs. At the same time, he pulled the other man with him as he shifted his weight onto his side. This turned Sam and himself away from the wall and toward the headboard. Then, Dean brought them both to a kneeling position in the center of the bed. Sam chuckled, then grunted when he was urged forward. When he found himself pressed into the cheap wood of the bed frame, he made an unintelligible sound Dean told himself he didn't hear. In this new position, they could move against one another easier and without the scratchy binding of the sheets. Dean brought his mouth back to Sam's neck, pressing their torsos together. His hand slid up Sam's left side, then back down. A guilty sensation went through him as he repeated the action several more times, trying to memorize the smooth texture of the skin.

Down the spine, to the center of the back, Dean moved his mouth at a slow pace. What he did had the desired effect on them both. For him, it built the anticipation of what was to come. For Sam, it made his lean body go rigid at times, then relax. Dean pulled him back from the headboard, caressing his lower stomach. Sam reached back, holding his head.

"I'm not going to break. You don't have to tip-toe around this. Do what you want." Sam paused, arching his back, making sure his ass cheeks engulfed Dean's shaft. " _Take_ what you want."

"Yeah? You sure, Sammie?"

"Don't I feel sure?"

  _Be gentle with him. Use your fingers, relax the muscle_ …

Using the only liquid at hand, Dean slid his thumb and index finger over the head of his cock. Once they were wet, he eased them into the hard crease of Sam's ass until he found the tender, tense pucker. The wet tip of one finger began massaging the ring, causing Sam to moan. Taking this as a good sign, Dean continued kissing and caressing the warm flesh. Misgivings began evaporating the more Sam responded. It felt good to be giving in to his more primal urges and having Sam feel good because of them.

"I don't want this to be like the spit-and-shove scene in _Brokeback Mountain_ ," Dean said, resting his forehead on Sam's back. "I want to do this right."

"You're already off to a better start, but what you've got isn't going to be enough," Sam said, looking over his shoulder. "You have something with you, don't you?"

"Some cheap shit from the gas station," Dean responded, his tone miserable. "I don't want to use that crap now. I want it to be…"

"Check my bag. Outside zipper pocket."

Dean was reluctant to part their bodies, not when they fit so well together. Still, if it meant they could be even closer, the few minutes apart would be worth it. Scrambling backward, he got off the bed and crossed the room to where their bags sat on the floor. It took him longer to find the slender tube of expensive lube but he did find it.

When he turned back to the bed, he found Hermes standing between him and it. "For fuck's sake! You have, like, _the_ worst timing _ever_!"

"Relax, lover-boy. Samuel isn't going to know any different. I thought I might give you a bit of a warning before you go pounding away at that incredible, virile body. What you're about to do is going to change things for the two of you in a very big way."

"I'm about to fuck my brother, I sort of thought it would _change things_ , dip-shit!"

"I'm only offering an informed opinion regarding what you're about to do."

"You mean the part about me using half this tube of stuff to slick up my dick so I can ride his sweet ass halfway into tomorrow's sunset? Yeah, I'm pretty informed about what I'm about to do!" Dean stepped forward. "Now, if you could just go so I could get to doing it, that'd be great."

"Don't say I didn't try."

Hermes disappeared in a burst of gold sparkles. Dean walked through the last of them back to the bed. Facing him, on his knees, Sam was smiling. Even in the greenish glow from outside, the sharp set of his jaw, the way he tilted his head, it made Dean feel as though all the air had been sucked out of the room. He felt light-headed, giddy, horny, and more than a little guilty.

Sensing the guilt, Sam's smile waned. "What is it, what's wrong?"

"What's wrong? I just got lube out of your bag so I could _fuck_ you. That's what's wrong!"

"Really, Dean? You think this is wrong?"

"Come on, Sam…don't you?"

Moving to the end, then off the bed, the younger of the two came to stand in front of the older. Taking Dean's face in his hands, he offered a sincere answer in the form of a gentle kiss. At first, this caught Dean off-guard. Then, as it progressed, he deepened the kiss by opening his mouth. Sam obliged, opening his own and allowing the warm length of his tongue. Their hands caressed and fondled one another while their tongues explored.

After more than ten whole minutes, Sam took the tube from Dean, opened it, and began applying the cool liquid along the full length of the rigid shaft. All while kissing, he greased the thing from tip to base, warming the liquid as he did. Dean responded in the most amazing way, his whole body moving in time with Sam's hand, his mouth becoming more and more insistent. On the last pass of his hand, Sam broke the kiss and used his unique handhold to bring Dean with him back to the bed.

Sitting on the edge, he leaned back on his elbows, then spread his legs. Dean stepped in between them. They stared at one another, each seeing a side neither ever thought to see. Leaning down, Dean slid one arm under Sam while cradling his face. They kissed, another long, deep kiss. Sam's right leg slid up and over Dean's hip. Their kiss deepened. Thunder sounded overhead, punctuated by a simultaneous lightning flash. The plump, wet head of Dean's cock nudged the tight crease of Sam's ass. Their mouths worked against one another with even more urgency.

Sam's hands slid down the broad expanse of muscle, his palms digging into Dean's back. The teasing push against his hole felt like the most annoying itch with just one way to scratch it. Cliché as it was, he needed what Dean offered. One hand closed over the meaty thickness of Dean's ass. A gentle pull relayed his request. At first, he thought there might have been some sort of reconsideration. Then, as he felt the easy parting of his hole and the plump wetness enter him, he knew Dean was being the opposite. For the same reason he did not want to use the cheap lube he used with all the other people he met on the road, his brother was being considerate. Resting his head against the other man's shoulders, Sam held on with both hands.

"I'm all right," he whispered, nuzzling the other's face, breathing in the sweet scent.

"You sure?"

In answer, Sam slid his heel down into the center of Dean's back, just above his ass, and pulled. The first few inches sent him forward on the bed. A low, growling, hissing sound came from his lips. Again, he had to assure Dean he was all right to continue. To do this, he used his other leg to pull him forward.

In spite of himself, Dean felt the rest of his shaft slide into the slick sleeve of tight warmth. Holding their bodies together, he kept his hips still while moving his mouth down along the length of Sam's neck. If he needed to speak, to tell him to back off, he would need his mouth free. Nuzzling Sam's neck, he fastened his mouth onto the unyielding skin and bit. The sensation caused the other's body to tense, his insides to clench, and they both groaned.

"You all right?" Dean asked, keeping their torsos tight against one another. "You want to stop?"

"I would have thought the way I was clenching would have been a sufficient answer."

Dean smiled. "It's my first time…you ass."

"Mine too," Sam responded, kissing his chin. "Now, fuck mine before we die of old age."

Bringing one knee onto the bed, Dean angled his body and eased the rest of himself forward. Sam winced but kept urging him on. When he winced again, Dean stopped. Hermes' words echoed in his memory. _Let Sam drive_.

"Wait," he said, his mouth near the other's ear. "Let's do this the easy way."

Pulling back his hips, he dislodged himself. Gathering Sam in his arms, he brought them both to a standing position. Devouring Sam's mouth again, he turned them around. When the kiss ended, he fell back on the bed, legs spread. Propping up on his arms, he grinned. Sam took the meaning and returned to the bed. Swinging one leg over Dean's muscled lower body, he reached back and positioned the slick head. Grinning down at his brother, he eased the head inside of himself.

"So nice," he groaned. "Of you to let _me_ drive."

Part of the ultimate turn-on of this position was watching how Sam's hard body worked as he slid down on the entire shaft. The narrow crease of his pecs deepened, his abs flexed, and each of his dark nipples hardened. Dark hair fell into his eye then was tossed out as he jerked his head up. Both of his powerful legs supported his weight as he started a rocking motion with his hips. All the hard work Sam put into his body could be appreciated by the neon green light and the occasional lightning flash. Dean felt the hard pull of Sam's inner muscles each time he rose up.

"Fuck, you are beautiful," he said, his hands at his side for fear of hindering  things.

"You feel…amazing."

Another few kisses, more caresses, and Sam began working his hips back and forth faster each time. Bracing himself with his arms, he leaned back and pushed his whole body down to get maximum penetration from Dean's hard cock. Groaning, he felt the dull ache begin to ease into a budding pleasure. When he paused, Dean looked concerned. Sam smiled.

"Just taking it all in," he explained. "I want to remember you like this."

"Sweaty and nervous?"

"Happy."

Sitting up, Dean gathered Sam into his arms. The kiss they shared spoke the words he could not bring himself to say. It conveyed his pent-up feelings, his newly-released ones, and any he might have. His hands held Sam close enough to feel the hard rhythm of his heart. Inside the tight, constricting channel, his cock began pumping long, thick streams of cum. Surprised by this, he moaned into Sam's mouth. They held tight to one another, clutching, kissing, sighing, groaning.

Sam drew back first, attempting to catch his breath and process what just happened. Pushing down with the full weight of his body, he kept everything Dean gave him inside. Tossing his head, he looked down the length of his torso to where his own spent dick lay against Dean's lower stomach. He chuckled, nuzzling Dean's neck.

"Didn't expect that," he said. "A little excited, were we?"

"A little. Fuck you for being so tight."

"Fuck me, huh? Fuck me?" Sam clenched hard on Dean's still-hard shaft. "I'd say you've got another few rounds in your chamber. Wanna try again? See how long we can go?"

Dean grinned, drawing his brother down onto his chest. "You're on."

Unseen to either Winchester, Hermes watched them begin again. Adjusting his tie, the Olympian smiled when Sam began moving his hips again. "Message delivered. I warned you, though, Dean. Sam's requests are never simple."

***


End file.
